Chapter 11
Darcy had been in London for almost a week, but he was no more tranquil than he was in Kent. The distance he put between himself and Elizabeth was not helpful; his torment was not diminished by time or distance. Elizabeth was still present within him, capturing his reason and senses.
He was curious to know what she thought of his letter. Had she read it? Did she trust it? Did she accept his explanations? Had she changed her opinion of him? What if they should meet again? What might she do? What should he do? Would she speak to him, or would she avoid him entirely?
Questions, fears, and doubts increased his distress and gave him not an moment of peace. He found no remedy for such turmoil and no means to diminish it.
During the last two days, it had rained almost constantly, and the weather kept him inside.
He was not eager for company anyway, but a brief meeting at the club with his uncle and cousins helped the time pass more quickly.
He decided to leave for Pemberley, but the date of his departure remained unsettled.
Secretly—barely daring to admit it to himself—he hoped that perhaps his cousin Richard might call on the Gardiners in Gracechurch Street and bring him some news.
What use that might be, he could not say.
He knew he was unreasonable, but he still hoped to hear something of her before leaving Town.
However, Richard was busy with his regiment for several days.
Bingley was also expected to return to Town.
Perhaps he could meet him too, see how he was, and observe whether he still had any interest in Miss Bennet.
If his affection was still ardent, then perhaps he deserved to be told she was in Town.
The penance he was given for his ungenerous and faulty interference, he would never forget, nor did he want to repeat it—either the error or the scolding.
A long-awaited, beautiful spring day finally arrived.
When the sun eventually shone and the sky cleared, a touch of joy rose in Darcy’s spirit.
The fresh air wafting from Hyde Park, the voices of the children, and horses cantering along the paths together with pedestrians walking and chatting cheerfully—all made a lively picture.
From the balcony, Darcy looked at the people gathering in the park, increasing in number.
Everybody enjoyed a pleasant day—especially Elizabeth.
Such warm, sunny weather was excellent for walking, and she would certainly not miss such an opportunity.
He wondered whether there were any parks near her aunt’s house.
For a moment, he thought he might investigate Gracechurch Street—just to observe the house and see whether she had returned to Town.
But he dismissed it immediately as being absurd.
His aunt wrote to him and informed him that Miss Bennet had left Kent. Of that, there was no doubt.
He watched the park’s paths again. The distance was significant, and he could not perceive any faces or features.
He knew he was unreasonable and that he could not trust either his mind or his eye as he thought he recognized Elizabeth several times.
Of course, it could not be she; yet, his heart skipped a beat each time.
Finally, he lost patience with himself. It was a beautiful day, and the weather invited him outside.
So he would not delay. He had no hope of meeting Elizabeth, but he would see other people, maybe acquaintances.
Perhaps he might exchange a few words. Maybe he would briefly call on the Matlocks too.
Darcy took his coat and left the house. His steps brought him toward Hyde Park at increased speed.
A sense of impatience enveloped him. He felt nervous and troubled.
He looked around, unreasonably hoping to see her, scolding his own foolishness.
In front of him, several groups of ladies were walking, and again, in his mind only, several of them resembled Elizabeth.
He continued to walk in the shade of the large trees.
He then changed direction towards the lake.
Another figure—another chimera—reminded him of her.
Long minutes of solitary walking followed, alone with his thoughts and his turmoil, lonely in a crowd of people, voices, and laughter.
And then, in front of a tea shop by the water, the entire world narrowed to the single spot in front of him where Elizabeth stood, staring at him—pale, astounded, and holding tightly to her sister’s hand.
Out of his dreams, in a painful reality, she still wore traces of the most hurtful marriage proposal and rejection that ever existed.
He lost his voice, lost his strength, and lost his courage. He found only enough composure to bow and say—
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, Miss Lucas. What a surprise to see you here.”
She remained silent, eyes wide and lips half parted. It was Miss Bennet who spoke.
“Mr Darcy…a lovely surprise indeed.”
∞∞∞
Elizabeth could not move or breathe. Her eyes met his, and she was unable to avert her gaze.
He looked astonished too—and pale and tired.
His features were less severe and his gaze less cold.
His eyes were darker but softer than she remembered, containing a warmth she had never seen before.
Or, perhaps, it was not greater warmth but less coldness.
He appeared uncomfortable, abashed, torn between staying and leaving.
“I am happy to see you,” he finally uttered. “Have you been in Town long? Are you in good health, I hope?”
Strangely, the eldest Miss Bennet was the most composed and animated. “I have been in Town for three months now. My sister and my friend just arrived from Kent a few days ago. And you, sir?”
“I have been in Kent too. I just arrived.” He turned red then white.
“This is a lovely day for walking,” Jane continued.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Have you been in the park long?”
“Not so long…” Jane responded.
“But I am afraid we must return home,” Elizabeth interjected. “It is rather late, and our aunt must be waiting for us. She needs us.”
She was surprised to hear her own words.
Her breathing became heavier, and she did not trust her strength to stay longer.
Her heart and head ached. The sight of him, so close that she could touch his arm, aroused feelings she did not recognize, and a strange sadness enveloped her.
She could not endure being so near him and did not want to see him hasten away from her, so she knew she had to do it first—before he could say or do anything more.
She felt Jane’s surprised glance, but her sister supported her as always. “Yes, we must return. It was just a quick, unplanned stroll to take advantage of this lovely weather. We should leave now. Good day, Mr Darcy, it was a pleasure meeting you again.”
He desperately wished to stop them, but he did not dare.
It was obvious that Elizabeth wished to depart as soon as possible.
Her face and distressed eyes told the truth of her loathing to be in his company.
Seeing her leave was painful, but having her stay against her wishes was unbearable.
He had no right to increase her turmoil.
So he bowed silently and remained still, gazing after them for a long while until they disappeared around a corner.
He had been right, after all: she was there, in the park, as his heart had told him. But she had left the moment she saw him, just as his mind warned him would happen.
∞∞∞
On their way back home, Elizabeth’s steps quickened until her companions had to fairly run to keep up the pace.
She entered the house quickly; Mr Wilson, who had also just returned, was in the hall.
She did not respond to his greetings and ran upstairs, followed by Jane.
She removed her bonnet and gloves and threw herself on the bed, starting to sob irrationally, shocking both Jane and herself.
In the main hall, the master of the house observed the young ladies’ retreat, puzzled and worried. Maria Lucas remained disconcerted, looking at the gentleman, embarrassed and uneasy. She had never been alone with him.
“Is Miss Elizabeth well? She looked very ill. She looked like she was crying. Did something happen? Is she hurt?” Mr Wilson asked Maria.
“Oh no, she is not hurt. But I think she is upset. She practically ran from the park. She is upset, I think, because we met Mr Darcy. She is always upset and distressed when she meets him,” Maria responded readily, happy that she knew the answer.
“Mr Darcy? In the park? But why would this upset Miss Elizabeth? Did he offend her? What happened?”
“Well, he did not say anything this time, but perhaps she was still angry with him from Kent.”
“From Kent?”
Mr Wilson’s concern increased, but Maria missed it.
“Come, let us go into the drawing room,” he politely offered, and the young girl felt flattered. “So, you said something about Kent. Did anything occur between Miss Elizabeth and Mr Darcy?”
“Yes…at Hunsford…at my sister’s house. One day I was at home as I felt sick.
And Lizzy was home too. I was in my room, and suddenly I heard raised voices, and when I went to see what was happening, Lizzy was downstairs with Mr Darcy.
They seemed to be arguing violently, and she was crying, and he looked quite scary and angry.
I thought he had hurt her, but Lizzy said it was fine and that they had a strong disagreement.
But it was strange—why would Mr Darcy visit Lizzy alone?
He knew my sister and Mr Collins were at Rosings.
Oh dear, I forgot! It was supposed to be a secret; Lizzy made me promise I would tell no one!
Oh, she will be mad at me,” Maria said, quickly moving from excitement to distress.
“Do not worry, Miss Lucas. This secret will remain between us; I give you my word. It is good that you told me, but let us not tell anyone else, shall we?”